“Hi, Holly. It’s Alice.” She sat on the bed and placed her hand gently on Holly’s back. “Rough day?”
A muffled sobbing sound squeezed up from around the pillow.
Alice rubbed the girl’s back until her crying eased and her breathing was no longer labored. “I’m sorry you’re so upset.”
Holly rolled onto her side, her luminous green eyes red-rimmed and watery. “It was horrible.”
“Was it?”
Holly nodded. “I hate school!” She flung herself over, hiding her face, and the tears started afresh.
Alice waited until the crying ebbed. Holly loved school so something big must have happened to make her say that. Then again, she was thirteen. Alice remembered those tumultuous teenage years when all it took was one girl saying, “You can’t sit with us,” or your twin announcing, “You’re a wet blanket,” and everything changed from sunshine to darkness.
“Are you sure you hate school?”
“Yes.”
“Even Mrs. Main?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. Poor Mrs. Main. Hated for giving you an A+ for your clay vase.”
Holly moved her head until Alice spied one green eye.
“Do you hate school or do you hate someone at school?”
“Someone at school.”
It was said so quietly Alice almost missed it. “Mean girl or mean boy?”
Holly mumbled something unintelligible into her pillow.
“How about you sit up and tell me?”
Holly hiccuped and eventually sat up, her entire body slumped and dejected. “It was Olivia Grayson.”
“How did she upset you?”
Holly’s face flushed pink.
Alice thought of all the things teenage girls found embarrassing and decided it was unwise to try and guess. “You can tell me, because I bet whatever Olivia said or did probably happened to me when I was at school.”
Holly looked doubtful so Alice leaned in conspiratorially. “You might not have guessed it by looking at me now, especially with me wearing these elephant print pants, but I was pretty dorky when I was at school.”
Holly smiled weakly. “You’re still a bit dorky, Alice. But in the best way,” she quickly added.
“That’s kind, but would Olivia appreciate my dorky super powers?”
Holly shook her head. “She’s one of the cool girls.”
“Ah.” Alice recalled the cool girls and their snarky comments. “And?”
“I got my—” her voice dropped, “—period.”
Something about the way she said the word made Alice wonder if this was Holly’s first period. It was like a knife to her own heart. Holly had no real sense that periods meant everything was working well and one day, if she wished, she could have a baby. Alice, on the other hand, had endured years of sometimes painful and often irregular periods and now, when she was more than ready to have a baby, her body had failed her, drying up like a wrinkled prune and old before its time.
She blinked back her own tears. “Have you had a period before?”
Holly shook her head. “Mom told me about them. She gave me some stuff and said I’d get it in fifth or sixth grade, but I didn’t. I threw them out cos they were old.”
Alice ached to hug her. “So you didn’t have anything with you?”
Again, the head shake. “Olivia was in the toilets when I … so I asked her for a pad. She told me—” Holly’s voice broke and tears splashed her cheek.
Even though Alice had no idea what Oliva Grayson had said, she already knew she wanted to thump her. This time she gave in to instinct and pulled Holly in close. “I bet whatever she said to you, it was wrong.”
Holly’s head thrashed against Alice’s chest.
“I bet you a Mars Bar she’s wrong. But the only way to win the bet is to tell me what she said.”
Holly mumbled something into Alice’s sweater.
She dropped her arms and lifted Holly’s chin with her fingers. “Say it again, this time for chocolate.”
Holly’s lips quivered and her voice was soft. “‘Only dirty trash wear pads and sit in their own blood.’”
Spare us from treasures like Olivia. “Well that’s wrong for a start. Did she say anything else?”
“That I have to use tampons or I’ll smell and everyone will know.”
“Well, I’ve got some good news for you. Olivia Grayson knows squat. Despite what everyone thinks, more women use pads than tampons.”
“Really?”
“Really. And tampons take practice. A lot of practice, so I bet Olivia used pads for her first period too.” Alice kept an arm around Holly. “And I promise, as long as you change your pad every two to three hours, the blood won’t smell. Today’s pads are pretty amazing. They trap the blood in little cells and they have wings so you don’t leak. They’re nothing like the pads my mom had to use. She said they were like wearing a canoe between her legs and she had to wear a special belt to tie hold them on.”
“Gross.”
“Exactly. We’re lucky.”
“But what if Olivia and the other girls at school see I’m using pads?”
“How are they going to see? Think about all the women you see every day who are over fourteen and under fifty-five. They all get periods. Have you ever noticed any of them wearing a pad?”
Holly considered the question. “No.”
Alice thought about the brown sludge that had greeted her this morning, staining her pajamas and taunting her with the fact that even though her eggs were pretty much dead, she was still forced to wear a pad. She bit her lip and honored Holly’s painful disclosure with one of her own. “Can you tell I’m wearing one?”
“Are you?” Holly asked breathlessly.
“Sort of. It’s called a panty liner. It’s like a mini pad. I’ve got a spare in my bag I can give you.”
“Thank you.” Holly gave a giant sniff of relief and wiped her face on her sleeve.
“Gross!” Alice fished out a tissue from her pocket along with a dog treat.
“That’s more gross.”
“This from the girl who lets Brutus lick her face. It’s clean and it comes
